


Fiji and Other Poorly Laid Plans

by tuesday



Category: A-Team (2010)
Genre: Honeymoon, M/M, Marriage, Mission Fic, cruise of doom, drunk marriage, worst honeymoon ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-11
Updated: 2010-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a fit of ill-judged drunken revelry, B.A. marries Murdock.  This is only the start of his troubles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fiji and Other Poorly Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: drunk marriage, brief threats of/references to violence, man overboard, drugging someone to get them into an airplane.
> 
> This was written for the kink meme prompt, "The team gets drunk and wake up in the morning to find that two of them (doesn't matter which ones) have gotten married. Hilarity ensues." Someone else filled it long before I finally got around to finishing this, but Wanlorn made me promise to share anyway.

They'd never gotten that case of champagne, so after they made it safely away, all the way to the opposite coast, they got several cases of cheap beer instead. B.A. remembered Murdock's increasingly ridiculous toasts—starting with Captain Sosa and ending with something about Care Bears—and he remembered Hannibal lighting up cigar after cigar; he remembered Face saying, "I would make a great best man."

He didn't remember when, exactly, he'd decided this was a great idea—he suspected this was actually _Murdock's_ idea, and he'd been dragged along despite reservations, because that was how these things went when Murdock was involved—or having actually said, "I do." He did, to his horror, remember the justice saying, "You may kiss the, er, bride."

"I feel like there are pixies hosting a mosh pit in my head," Murdock moaned and proceeded to steal the rest of the covers to ball over his face.

B.A. would ask why they were in bed together, but unfortunately he already knew the answer to that question. "I'm too hung over for this," B.A. said and decided this awkward morning after bullshit could be put off until he'd gotten a few more hours of sleep. He draped an arm over Murdock's chest and let slumber reclaim him.

—

He woke up to omelets and Murdock's face way, way too close to his own. B.A. decided the whole marriage thing had _definitely_ been Murdock's fault, because there was no other reasonable explanation for why he was getting breakfast in bed without air travel being involved.

"We're married now!" Murdock sounded entirely too pleased. This had definitely been his idea. "You know what this means?"

"An annulment?"

Murdock ignored B.A.'s words entirely. "We're on honeymoon!" Murdock cut a piece of omelet off and held it in front of B.A. until he finally took a bite. "I hope you don't mind that I chose the location."

It occurred to B.A. that _this was not the same bed he'd gone to sleep in_. His delicious cheese and vegetable omelet became a choking hazard.

"Murdock," B.A. said after Murdock had pounded him on the back and made him drink several sips of water to be safe, "where are we?"

"Fiji. Relax," Murdock said. "We can take a cruise home."

"But how did we _get_ here?"

Murdock looked uncertain, like he'd planned it all carefully and honestly thought an omelet plus the promise of no more airplanes would be enough to let it pass.

"I'm going to kill you," B.A. said, "right after I finish this omelet."

"Unless I come up with a better bribe in the meantime?" Murdock asked.

"No."

"What about," Murdock asked slowly, like he was carefully calculating new plans, "blow-jobs?"

B.A. choked again.

—

It turned out that Murdock was, as usual, full of shit. B.A. was unaccountably disappointed.

"If you weren't getting him up to speed," Face asked, "then what were you doing?" He paused. "Wait, I don't need to know. The boss is taking care of things downstairs. We leave in an hour."

Face left as quickly as he'd appeared, looking kind of frazzled. B.A. turned to Murdock, who'd hopped off the bed and edged toward the door. "We're not here on honeymoon, are we?" The words were deceptively calm, because Murdock was going to die by B.A.'s hand.

"We _could_ be," Murdock hedged. "I mean, technically—"

B.A. pointed his fork at Murdock. "Make your time. You have as long as it takes me to finish my breakfast and then find you."

Murdock fled.

Digging into the omelet, B.A. noticed that he was still wearing his ring. Here, alone, where no one could see him, B.A. twisted it a couple times and smiled.

—

Murdock hadn't been lying about the cruise.

"It's a favor for an old friend," Hannibal said. "You're not obligated to help, but—"

"I'm in," B.A. said. "But _no more airplanes_."

"None this mission," Hannibal promised.

B.A. knew that was probably the best he'd get right now.

"What's the plan, boss?"

—

The last cruise B.A. had been on had also been for a mission, and he'd ended up playing Murdock's bodyguard. He'd had to wear a ridiculous uniform and ride a segway, but he thought that was almost preferable to this, a bottle of champagne waiting on the bedside table, chocolates on the pillows, and a card with _Congratulations!_ inscribed in fancy lettering.

"Do you want the left side or the right?" Murdock asked, throwing himself into the center of the bed.

B.A. would say he'd take the floor, but even in the honeymoon suite, there wasn't a whole lot of room. "Push over, fool."

They had the evening—the plan itself didn't really start until the morning—and B.A. intended to be well-rested. Murdock rolled left, but when B.A. took the right side, Murdock slid back over.

"What are you doing?"

Murdock paused in nuzzling B.A.'s neck to say, "We're in a bed," like that was an explanation.

It occurred to B.A. that at some point, without his permission, his left hand had crept into Murdock's hair. His right was smoothing down the line of Murdock's spine.

"You're, uh, you're not just establishing our cover, right?" B.A. asked, because with Murdock, you could never be sure.

"You're the one who asked for my hand in marriage," Murdock said.

_WHAT._

Murdock leaned up and pulled B.A. into a kiss.

—

By the time B.A. had gotten over his shock—there were _reasons_ B.A. didn't drink much, but usually his terrible ideas found in the bottom of a cup involved violence or karaoke, not _proposing marriage_—he was stripped to his boxers, and Murdock was down to socks. B.A. would protest this—socks had no place in bed—but Murdock had slid down the mattress to mouth B.A.'s cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers, and B.A. couldn't bring himself to protest much of anything at all.

"Fuck, Murdock."

"That's what I'm doing," Murdock said prissily like B.A. was criticizing his technique. He slipped his fingers through the opening of B.A.'s boxers and curled them around B.A.'s cock. B.A. dropped his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes as Murdock's tongue darted out finally, finally against skin.

"It's rude not to watch." Murdock tugged B.A.'s boxers down.

"You're the type of person to keep your eyes open when you kiss someone," B.A. accused, tilting his hips up to help in removing the boxers.

"You already knew that." This was unfortunately true.

Murdock crawled up B.A.'s body to kiss him again, and B.A. kept his eyes open this time, though he knew this was going to _kill_ him. Murdock licked B.A.'s chin, nosed gently at his clavicle, and trailed soft kisses down his sternum and stomach. B.A. had just threaded his fingers gently through Murdock's hair, counting backwards from a thousand in intervals of twelve in a desperate attempt to counteract the effect of seeing Murdock's shiny red lips stretch wide over B.A.'s cock and the feeling of all that wet heat, when Face burst into the room and ruined everything.

"Shit!"

"Fuck!"

"Not while he's watching!"

B.A. decided Murdock's misunderstanding was a whole lot less endearing when Face was in their room and had forgotten to close the door. Murdock had stolen all the sheets to pull up to his chest, which left B.A. with the pillows. He used Murdock's in revenge.

"Close the door, fool," B.A. said, glaring, because seriously, there was busting in unannounced, and there was busting in unannounced and leaving open courtside seats for any passerby.

Face did so and stayed facing it as he said, "I thought you weren't actually—you hadn't—" He stopped, took a breath. "Hang a sock on the door or something next time."

"Or maybe you could _knock_."

"Right," Face said. "I'll—I'll do that next time." Then, because apparently he was carrying a death wish, "Did I see that right, or is Murdock wearing socks?"

"My feet get cold," Murdock said defensively.

"Face, _why are you here_?"

Face was quiet for a moment. "You know, I've actually forgotten. It's been seared out of my brain by—" Interrupting himself, "Charisa owes me thirty bucks."

"You bet on whether I was—" B.A. was going to _murder_ Face.

Turned the other way and utterly oblivious, Face said, "I was so sure I was going to win when you guys got married, but then you were both fully dressed the morning after, so—"

"When I'm dressed again," B.A. said, feeling oddly calm, like he was floating on the still surface of a fiery lake of rage, "I'm going to kill you."

Face risked a glance back and made a tiny startled sound. "I'm, uh, I'm just going to—" He hooked a thumb at the door and retreated entirely.

—

"Change in the plan, boys," Hannibal said. "Williams accidentally tipped them, and now they've taken hostage the engine room."

"How does someone accidentally tip the saboteurs he hired us to neutralize?" Face asked disbelievingly.

"What's important now," Hannibal said, waving off Face's question, "is fixing this before the situation spirals. Here's the new plan—"

—

B.A. didn't actually get to sleep that night.

Instead, there was a gunfight, an explosion that involved a minor hull breach, and going overboard for the second time in as many cruises, though this time, at least, wasn't so much to evade bullets as to help Murdock, who'd hit his head right before toppling over the guard rail. To be honest, B.A. preferred taking gunfire to the long seconds he'd lost sight of Murdock, to the desperate search for any glimpse of him before finally spotting the ridiculous orange life vest and floaties Murdock had insisted on donning before leaving the cabin. He'd called man overboard portside and made sure Face had spotted Murdock, too, before diving in, Hannibal's call to wait ignored entirely. There was having a plan, and there was the possibility of Murdock drowning facedown.

While B.A. was swimming for his life and worrying about neck injuries and performing CPR in the water and the time (too long) it would take the cruise ship to turn, Murdock had apparently been oblivious to the visual effect of a man doing the dead man's float—that other people would think _he was dead_. Murdock's sudden gasp of air was simultaneously like something right out of a horror movie and the best thing B.A. had ever heard.

"Bosco," Murdock said in surprise, like they'd just run into one another at the supermarket. "What are you doing here?"

Kissing someone breathless while trying to keep your head above water wasn't easy, but B.A. gave it his best shot.

—

By the time they were cleared by the ship's doctor, it was long past morning. "I'm going to bed," B.A. announced, and at least he got to keep the honeymoon suite even if the saboteurs had been rounded up and their cover more than blown.

"I'm going with him," Murdock hurriedly told the rest of the room and linked their arms together.

"So they're really—" B.A. heard Williams begin as they passed through the door, then down the hall.

"I really do need sleep," B.A. told Murdock.

"I'm told I make an excellent teddy bear," Murdock said.

This turned out to be true.

—

When B.A. woke up, Murdock was already awake and staring at him like B.A. was a brand new Black Hawk and Murdock was really, really hoping that he'd be given a chance to take a spin.

"That's kind of creepy," B.A. said, but his hands were already spanning Murdock's shoulders, tugging him in close.

"It's our honeymoon," Murdock said. "You're not allowed to be mean to me."

"S'not mean if it's the truth," and then they were kissing before Murdock could ruin it by trying to say anything.

This time, B.A. made Murdock take off his socks.

—

The next time the team celebrated by cracking open a case of beer, B.A. made Face and Hannibal promise not to let him do anything too ridiculous under the influence. Husband or no, Murdock was not to be trusted on that score.

In the morning, B.A. woke up on the floor next to his laptop, lying on a scattered stack of papers printed off from the internet. In one tab of Firefox was eHow's page on "How to File for Divorce." In another was a page on Massachusetts divorce law. One of the pieces of paper below him was printed off from this last. Scrawled in the margins was Murdock's scratchy handwriting detailing all the ways B.A. knew what he was getting into when he married Murdock and how it would thus be impossible to find grounds for divorce, accompanied by a number of angry and sad faces.

Murdock himself was leaning hesitantly off the side of the bed, staring at B.A. in an approximation of one of the sad faces. "You still mad at me?"

"Yeah," B.A. said, because he kind of was, even if he couldn't remember exactly why.

Murdock's expression was somehow even more crestfallen. "And I can't talk you out of it?"

B.A. sat up, feeling every second he'd spent sleeping on the floor like a weight on his back, and reached out a hand to pat Murdock's face. "I'm not divorcing you."

"That's not what you said last night." Some days, Murdock just wouldn't be comforted.

"Even if I did divorce you, I already know I can't get rid of you." B.A.'s words were half rueful, half fond.

"Really?" Murdock asked, like B.A. had just said his wedding vows all over again.

"Really."

Murdock half-scrambled, half-fell out of the bed, crawling determinedly into B.A.'s lap. "If you're still mad at me, I can make it up to you," Murdock promised.

"You don't need to—"

"I want to." Murdock hummed his happiness against B.A.'s throat in between nips and tiny kisses. B.A. decided just this once, he wasn't going to argue.

—


End file.
